


Exquisite Corpse

by turnitoffmckinley



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, ArNaba, Broadway performer!Connor, Drag Queen!AU, Drag Queen!Kevin, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Homophobia, M/M, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, churchtarts, demi!kev, mcpriceley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitoffmckinley/pseuds/turnitoffmckinley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor shuffled along vaguely to the blaring music, pushing his way through the thick crowd. He was searching for something, no- someone.</p><p>Red lips, brown eyes, cheekbones chiseled by the gods. Wore a rather scandalous- if he dared  say, hot- dress, had done a flawless routine on the dingy stage of the gay bar. Connor had never seen anyone more mesmerizing.</p><p>*This fic is currently being overhauled to match the author's current writing style. Please excuse any past-present tense inconsistencies between chapters while the author works to adjust these new changes.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you missed the trigger warnings in the tags, I'll list them here as well:  
> TW for: Prostitution (forced), emotional/psychological abuse, physical abuse, homophobia (i.e. homophobic slurs), slut-shaming language and slurs.

Connor shuffles along vaguely to the blaring music, pushing his way through the thick crowd. He's searching for something, no- someone.

Red lips, brown eyes, cheekbones chiseled by the gods. The man is wearing a rather scandalous- if he dared say, _hot_ \- dress, had done a flawless routine on the dingy stage of the gay bar. Connor has never seen anyone more mesmerizing.

The place is called The General’s. The owner is a mean looking guy. Connor avoided his gaze when he'd been pushed into the ugly place with Schrader and Davis. It's their day off from the show, and they insisted they’d “hook him up.” He’d assumed he was going on a double date, or triple, for that matter. Unfortunately, the so-called gay bar is clearly also a brothel, and there isn't much discretion on that part.

He bites his lip to keep from groaning when Schrader interrupts his pursuit, holding two shots of whiskey.

“Why the long face, bud?” Schrader asks. He gestures to Davis, who is just out of earshot making out with one of the burlesque drag queens from before. Connor scowls.

“I-”

“You need to loosen up, Con,” Schrader continues, shoving the shot into his hand. “You’re a gay man playing a gay man, so what’s the hold up? Ya gotta stop, y’know…”

“Turning it off? Been there, done that,” Connor dryly replies, before downing the alcohol. It burns in his throat, but it's a good feeling. It's a satisfying sizzling that seemed to quench whatever Connor has been thirsting for, but he can't quite name it.

Schrader shrugs, throwing back his shot.

“Well, maybe you should _buy out_ tonight. I’ll pay.” the man says with a cheeky grin. Connor flushes red.

“Ben, _no._ ”

“Ben, _yes!_ Come on, Connor, it’s not like you’ll ever have to see them again, just one night.”

Connor sighs, running a hand through his hair. He blinks, making eye contact with _them_ again. He can't seem to look away, but the man- woman, no, drag queen- breaks the gaze with some sort of eye roll. In that moment, Connor knew what he wanted.

“Fine. One night.” Connor agrees, and tosses his glass back onto the bar counter.

.::.

“He looked like a virgin.” Chris says as he flicks on a new coat of nail polish. He fiddles briefly with the pink bottle, careful not to chip his already dried polish.

“Yeah, they all do at some point, don’t they?” James snidely comments, also doing a bit of touch-up to his lipstick, which had smudged during his previous customer’s session.

“But he was really, _really_ , into you, Kev,” Chris argues, gesturing to Kevin, who only seems to be vaguely paying attention. He's staring into the mirror, his fingers deftly plucking out the bobby pins attaching his wig to his hair.  
  
Kevin rolls his eyes, his lips puckering into a sour pout.

“It’s not my problem if a kid can’t keep his eyes off my ass,” Kevin snorts, eliciting a short giggle from Chris, “and you know The General wouldn’t sell me out for a virgin… unless they paid good. He looked poor as hell.”

With a long pause, Kevin pulls the blonde curls off, allowing the soft waves of his hair a moment of freedom. He was originally certain they would be matted down with sweat; that last dance was a real workout.

“How was your last client?” Kevin asks James, who shrugs.

“It was that Davis boy again. He’s a good kisser, but a terrible fuck.” James says, his voice oozing with venom.

Kevin wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Theatre boys. They think they’re such big shots,” he grumbles, “well, I can’t say, because I haven’t had one yet, but they seem cocky.”

“Cocky? Is anyone cockier than you with your _Divine_ ego?” Chris comments. He blows gently on his nails, letting the jewels settle.

“Oh my god, _don’t_ call me that, unless you want me to remind you that your ‘name’ is _Cupcake,_ Chris.”

“Jesus, stop your hate-flirting, okay? Some of us are trying to focus,” James abruptly snaps. Both boys fall silent, before hearing footsteps coming their way.

There's an unspoken glance of fear that crosses between the three of them. Through their years at The General’s, they had learned a mutualistic sympathy and respect for each other, and given each other advice and assistance and support- all because of BFN, their _boss_. They all know why they are here, and they all know how to avoid him… well, for Chris and James, it was easier. Kevin is always less than lucky.

Kevin tries not to wince as the door swings open with a bang. BFN stares them down, per the usual.

“Divine, get your fucking wig on.” The General snaps. Kevin fights the urge to roll his eyes and correct his name again.

“Who am I screwing this time?” Kevin asks. He's supposed to have this night off, but now? He secretly prays it was a blowjob- he doesn't feel like doing the whole shebang.

BFN smirks, rolling out the dough. Kevin snatches it, eyes wide.

It's at least $300. _I could afford MAC cosmetics this time instead of Mehron._

“Another theatre bastard,” BFN chuckles, “his friends paid for him. He wants the full way.”

“Done. I’ll be there in a few.” Kevin replies, hastily fixing his wig. BFN nods, and slams the door shut behind them.

Chris bites his lip to keep from laughing. Kevin tries not to groan.

“I’ll bet you half your earnings that it’s the redhead!” Chris blurts out.

“Yeah, he’ll fuck his little man crush,” James chimes in. Kevin lets out his suppressed temperament.

“Seriously, guys? Cash is cash,” Kevin mutters, unlocking his cash case and shoving the bills in, “You know how much _new_ lipstick I could get? I’m tired of red glitter.”

“Whatever, tiger. You know where we’ll be when you’re done.” James says, blotting away at his overly-coated lips. The man smiles as soon as he's done, Chris also grinning as his nails finish drying.  
  
“Okay, well, see you on the other side I guess,” Kevin says. He waits patiently for them to say anything more, but instead is greeted with silence. With a heavy sigh, he leaves their tiny dressing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is "mischief-broadway" if anyone is interested. If you have any comments, questions, concerns/etc, you can reach me there or in the comments below. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor isn't really sure what to expect when he'a standing beside Schrader, who was, decidedly, doing the talking.

The General is even more intimidating up close, with his eyepatch, the putrid odor, and his harrowingly yellow teeth. His eyes are like daggers, as if he were piercing right through Connor, and even as an actor Connor is certain he is doing a terrible job at looking calm.

“Divine doesn’t _do_ virgins,” The General snarls, “he’d tear this fucker into shreds.”

Schrader fidgets, rolling out a stack of bills from his pocket.

“How about three-hundred bucks to take his virginity?” he says with a grin. The General snatches the money from his hands, examining it to check its credibility.

With a few glances in Connor’s direction, The General nods.

“It’s a deal,” the man replies, ushering Connor down a narrow hallway. Connor gives one final glance at Schrader, who shoots him a thumbs-up.

He's lead to a small room, with a dingy mattress and bland-colored walls. It smells of sex and everything in Connor’s instincts screamed for him to run, but he finds himself frozen in the doorway.

The General patiently allows for him to enter the room, before informing him that their _star drag queen_ would need time to prepare, and he is to wait here. Connor doesn't need to be told twice.

So he waits, twiddling his thumbs and wringing his hands. He attempts to check his phone, but the signal is completely dead on this side of the building. It is nearly 2 in the morning, but he feels alert and awake.

In all honesty, Connor isn't sure what to expect. He knows he was about to lose his virginity- something his mother would certainly be ashamed of, and quite frankly, he is nervous about it himself. He always imagined he’d lose it with a boyfriend- not with a prostitute.

 _A hot prostitute_ , his thoughts remind him, _don’t lie to yourself._

He doesn't quite get a lot of time to truly think through his decision, as the clearing of someone else’s throat startles him back to reality.

“Are you gonna stare at the wall all day, sweetie, or are we gonna get it on?”

 _Woah_.

Connor opens his mouth to say something, but was stunned into silence. Up close, the drag queen is even more ravishingly beautiful than before. However, he doesn't get a chance to comment, as the man is clearly annoyed with him even with only being in the room for more than a moment.

“...alright,” the man says, his lips smacking in a loud pop, “you’re not a talker, are you? What’s your name?”

Connor blinks.

 _Name? My name? What… oh,_ my name _._

“Connor,” he chokes out, taking a seat on the bed. The man settles unbearably close, leaning down to be eye-level with Connor, his hands on either side of the redhead’s own on the mattress. They were just barely touching, and Connor finally gets an even closer look. The man has simply gorgeous brown eyes- he isn't sure he’d ever seen that shade on anyone else before, or perhaps he had, but he is completely lost in them. His perfume is sickeningly sweet, and it makes Connor’s head spin.

“So, _Connor_ , how are we gonna do this? Do you want me on bottom or top?”

“Bottom or top?” the redhead echoes.

“Am I riding you or what?” the man snapped. Connor winces, a bit stunned by his outburst.

When Connor doesn't answer, extremely confused, the prostitute impatiently lowers him onto the mattress with a gentle shove. The man sits on the other end, fumbling with his heels to get them off. He notices Connor hasn't made a move yet, and makes a sour face.

“I, oh, gosh am I not supposed to stare? Sorry.” Connor says.

“You’re supposed to be taking off your pants, I don’t have all day, kid.”

“I uh, I didn’t catch your name.”

The man pauses, batting away a blonde curl that caught onto his still-moist lipstick.

“The General calls me _Divine_.” he growls, as if it is the worst thing he’s heard in his life. Connor fumbles with his belt, ignoring the uncomfortable air that has passed between himself and the man- _Divine_.

“Have you, uh, done this before?” _Wow McKinley, dumb question._ By the incredulous look on Divine’s face, his thoughts are correct.  
“What the fuck do I look like, Mother Teresa?” Divine snaps.

“I was gonna go with Madonna, but-”

Divine rolls his eyes, thoroughly annoyed.

“Oh, _Jesus Christ_ , just shut up and take your clothes off.”

Connor doesn't hesitate to chuck off his shoes, socks, and trousers, feeling increasingly more and more exposed until he is completely nude. He draws his knees up to his chest, trying to hide his blush. Divine smirks at him, amused with his prudeness.

“Okay princess,” he continues, “do you want the honors of removing my panties or are you gonna do it?”

“Uh…” Connor flushes red, “what are you more comfortable with?”

“Getting this over with and getting shut eye, quite frankly. I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Connor is certain his entire face is redder than a tomato, by the way Divine shucks his lacy panties off and crawls towards him.

“Yeesh, no need to be stiff,” Divine mutters, reaching over to the nightstand and fishing out a bottle of lube and a condom, “relax your legs.”

Connor slowly and awkwardly eases down onto the pillow, letting his body go slack. Setting the materials aside, Divine cuppa his face, observing his frightened eyes with a tender grin.

“Asexual?” he presumes. Connor shakes his head.

“No, why?”

“You’re so timid,” he notes, and then thoughtfully tilts his head. “It’s kind of cute.”

Connor’s chest flutters for a moment, every butterfly in his stomach having been released at once as Divine’s face is only a small space away from his own. His cherry lips graze against Connor’s own, so very close to contact.

“You’d think you’d be more eager for this kind of crap. It’s not every day you get laid by the hottest piece of ass in New York City.” Divine drawls, before smashing their lips together. Connor’s eyes blow wide, but _damn_ , if it wasn’t a turn-on. He allows his mouth to go slack, letting the man ravish his face. When Divine at last pulls away, he grins, incredibly pleased with the smudge of lipstick he’s left in his wake.

His lips move down to Connor’s pale jaw-line, kissing and sucking away, leaving trails of marks from his chin down his throat, and then reaches his collarbone. Connor cries out pleasurably, his hands roaming and cupping Divine’s well-toned backside.

Divine pulls away, sitting up.

“So am I gonna have to put the condom on you, or what?”

.::.

When it’s all over, and both of them are panting and gasping for breath, Divine is the first to get up, moving to put back on his dress. Connor’s still reeling, having been practically fucked into the mattress, before he sits up, observing Divine’s backside with admiration.

“Are you gonna stare at me, or are you gonna go?” Divine says, his snark having returned in the blink of an eye.

“...are you leaving?” Connor asks.

“...okay, kid, listen, do you have any idea how this works? You pay for the slut, you sleep with the slut, then you leave and you-” Divine yawns, his voice heavy with exhaustion, “you… you leave and you don’t come back. That’d be weird.”

“Well… what if I don’t want to leave?” Connor responds, “...could you stay?”

Divine quirks an eyebrow, his dress half-zipped and his arms crossed flat over his chest.

“What?”

“Stay the night. I don’t want to bother you or anything so please don’t take it that way but…”

The man seems to be thinking about this, his eyes narrow and his lips drawn into a thin, tight line.

“I have a schedule.” Divine retorts. Connor shrugs, peeling back the covers in an offering gesture.

“So do I.”

Divine glances behind him, as if The General is watching, before rolling his eyes and submitting to Connor’s request. Connor has to stop himself from almost fist-bumping the air, gleefully giddy at the prospect of scoring the guy for the night.

"You better leave a tip for this, I don’t do this very often, you know,” Divine growls. He flops onto the bed in an exhausted heap, half of his face obscured by an over-stuffed pillow.

Connor scoots over, letting him get comfortable. Divine drapes an arm around Connor’s waist, drawing them close. Connor smiles, allowing his own arm to wrap around his shoulders. He’s never shared a bed before, not with any of his past boyfriends, or anyone, for that matter.

Divine is out cold in mere minutes. Connor watches him sleep; it is absolutely fascinating. He brushes the blonde curls out of his face, accidentally pushing the entire wig backwards, revealing a full head of brunette hair. He's hesitant to touch it, or touch Divine for that matter, but in that moment, he is reminded that the man is a living, breathing person, just like himself.

 _Schrader said I’m not supposed to get attached,_ Connor remembers uneasily, feeling himself drifting off, _but I wonder..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin and Connor both have conflicting feelings over what occurred between them.

Kevin stirs, blinking groggily as he awoke. His teeth chatter- whatever warmth he previously had been engrossed within had vanished, leaving the bed frigid and incomplete.

His mind is fuzzy, and maybe it was the tonic and gin he’d had the night before, but as he feels around him on the empty mattress, he starts to remember bleary images from his prior exploits.

Oh, and his entire behind is sore. That's probably a good indicator of what happened. Even though today is supposed to be his entire day off, presumably to have started last night, he's thrown it all away.

He didn’t know why he’d done it. Why he’d _kissed_ him. He never kisses clients unless they ask for it specifically.

Perhaps he had been so annoyed with this boy’s clearly confused approach to sexuality, but even Kevin can't lie and say it wasn’t the most satisfactory sex he’s had in awhile.

 _Speaking of the kid…_ The room is empty, save Kevin himself and his scattered clothes…

Except, the clothes aren't scattered, rather, they are neatly folded at the end of the bed- yep, even his panties. Kevin can see his wig on the nightstand, and his heels neatly placed on the ground.

He rolls his eyes playfully, feeling a bit giddy. The General always makes him put on his clothes and leave immediately, but this _theatre bastard_ had let him sleep in, had the audacity to tidy up, and _he’d left a tip._

“I’ll be damned,” Kevin says with a grin. He fishes the tiny compact mirror out of the nightstand, and realizes with horror he’d left his makeup on all night.

“Shit, this better not wreck my pores!”

.::.

Connor feels numb.

He isn't sure whether it's because he just lost his v-card, snuggled a drag queen, or because previews for Cabaret start tonight, but his cheeks are flush and his mind is spinning and-

“Connor?” Naba’s voice deters him from his thoughts. She just finished up her makeup for Sally Bowles, and has her arms crossed, watching him in concern. He snaps out of his racing thoughts, or at least, tries to, and smiles.

“I’m fine.” he says, pressing his hands to his cheeks, as if he were to conceal his blush, but his white foundation coated it anyways.

“Really?” She isn't convinced.

“Right as rain! Hey, how much longer?”

“15 minute call is in less than 2 minutes.” Naba alerts him.

“Thanks,” he quips, hurrying out of her dressing room and towards his own. He pretends not to hear her demand for an explanation as he whizzes through the narrow hall.

_You’re not supposed to get attached._

It seemed to keep ringing in his head, and he's _absolutely positively and furthermore, most certainly_ not _attached to a certain drag queen he’s only slept with once._

And yet, Connor’s head hurts and when he remembers every detail of Divine _kissing_ him and _touching_ him and it was just _right_ \- maybe he was clingy because it was his first time and he’ll move on eventually but even hours after it’d happened he wants to say so much more.

He’d even kissed his hair before he’d left- god, he's so glad Divine was still sleeping then because he would’ve been embarrassed as hell if he’d caught him kissing his cute, adorable, perfect hair.

He wants to forget, he wants to move on, as easily as Davis does from guy to guy, as Schrader rolls women off his shoulders like the flip of a coon, but Connor _can't_ and _won't_. He knows he’d seen something in those warm brown eyes, even with Divine’s sharp tongue and biting words that defiantly threatened, his voice had been laced with something inherently affectionate and comfortable that Connor can't quite place.

As if on cue, Fun Home comes on shuffle from his iPod, and he rolls his eyes as "Changing My Major" taunts him through his earbuds.

“I get it, I get it,” he says to the thin air, “I’m Al and he’s Joan.”

_Turn it off, McKinley. Turn it off._

.::.

Of course, Connor fights every gay urge he possesses to avoid going back and confronting Divine himself. He waits nearly a month before even going near the area, and allows himself to enter a local Starbucks only a few blocks down from the bar.

Even in the crowd of people, he feels completely anonymous. Safe. Last night, the fans had been screaming as he left the stage door, and, given his shy, quiet tendencies, he had felt so exposed. Now, he's glad some Broadway fangirl hadn’t spotted and mauled his face off, he isn't sure how much he could handle.

He can't bring himself to order coffee, an old Mormon principle that he barely clings to and yet he simply cannot muster why people like its bitter taste. Instead, when he steps up to the counter, he flashes his warmest smile.

"I'll have a medium hot chocolate, thank you," Connor tells the barista. As he swipes his card, he hears a voice behind him.

"You mean a _grande_ , kid? And who goes to Starbucks and orders hot chocolate?" came a familiar snort.

Connor whirls around in surprise.

" _Divine_?" he gasps. The man doesn't look quite the same with his neatly combed hair and lack of cosmetics. Nonetheless, here he is, in his decaffeinated glory. Just as he had before, Connor is stunned into silence, his jaw has most certainly dropped, and he feels _that_ again- joyous, blurry-edged excitement that even in the few milliseconds he’s run back into the guy, the exhilaration has frozen him to the spot.

Divine rolls his eyes with a sneer.

"Go get your drink, you're holding up the line."

" _Yeah_ … OH! Oh yeah, uh, sorry. Pardon me," Connor mutters, his face flushed with embarrassment. Divine purses his lips, arms folded patiently as Connor scurries out of his way.

The redhead hurries over to the counter to pick up his hot chocolate, watching as Divine orders his drink.

_He’s so calm. Did he forget we..._

He doesn't get to finish that thought, as the exhausted man saunters his way in his direction to retrieve his coffee.

After a moment’s silence and Divine’s quick “thank you” to the barista who completed his beverage, he turn on Connor, who quickly realizes he had quite awkwardly been gazing at his face for the past 10 minutes.

"Do you stare at everyone like this all the time, or just me?" he grumbles, his eyes lighting up as he took a long swig of his drink. Connor is sure he finished the whole thing in one chug, but chooses not to address it.

"Oh, uh, no, just you."

Divine snorts.

"How _thrilling_. Well..." He looks at his watch, "I have a netflix marathon to catch, so..."

He tries to leave, but Connor interrupts him.

"Wait, Divine-"

"Don't call me that." His voice is absolutely chilling. The man's eyes narrow, steely and dark. Connor swallows harshly.

"Okay, um, what would-"

"Kevin, please, my name is Kevin." He sounds a bit resigned.

" _Kevin_? Okay then, Kevin. It's a nice name."

The corner of Kevin's lips quirk up, and Connor can't quite explain, but the situation seems a lot less... _unreal_ now that he had a name.

"Yeah, sorry, um... It's… Divine is the name The _General_ gave me," Kevin explains, a tad bitterly. Connor notices the sudden tension, and fights with uncertainty on how to approach it.

"That... makes sense. Do you wanna sit down?" Connor asks.

"Sit down?" Kevin echoes, glancing around.

"And talk." Connor clarifies. Kevin's lips form a small "o."

Kevin pauses, his thumbs tracing the lid of his drink, before he speaks again.

"Yeah, fine, whatever, but uh, could we go somewhere else?" he says a bit nervously, "I don't want the boss to know I'm here."

"Oh? How come?" Connor asks. Kevin shrugs.

"I'm not really supposed to be out unless I'm getting _supplies_." Kevin says with a frown. Connor blinks.

"Oh- _oh_. Okay, well, do you wanna get lunch?"

Kevin hesitates, his shoulders tensing. Connor gets a good glimpse of Kevin, he is, as he noted earlier, incredibly different looking in an ordinary grey hoodie and black skinny jeans. He looks smaller (despite the fact he is still a whole foot taller than Connor), less intimidating, and very tired. His eyelids are baggy and drooping, as if he is receiving a poor amount of sleep, and he looks barely awake, for that matter.

Even so, his hair is styled very precisely. His drowsy eyelids are speckled with the remains of black eyeliner, it appeared. His lips are a different affair, coated in a light pink balm. Connor tries his best not to stare, but the stark contrast between _Divine_ and _Kevin_ is simply shocking.

“Get… Lunch? Like, go eat? Together?” Kevin clarifies, clutching his coffee a little too tightly.

“Mmhmm, that sums it up.”

"Is this a date? I don't do dates." Kevin says, his voice laden with suspicion. Connor smiles.

"Not a date… Just… I just want to talk- it’s a lunch between friends."

"A friend you paid to fuck."

" _Kevin!_ " Connor gasps. Kevin grins.

"Hey, it's the truth."

After an awkward pause, Kevin drops his smile.

"Alright, I'll come with you on your not-a-date." Kevin resigns, "but, only if Netflix is involved at some point. I have the day off, but I need to be back by tomorrow morning."

Kevin's frown depends, and he then glances at Connor.

"And no freebies, we are _not_ having sex again." Kevin’s voice is gravely as he rolls over the last few words, as if Connor were to ask for it at any second.

The redhead's brow furrows.

"That wasn't my intention." he rebukes, before checking his phone. He has an hour before he needs to be at the theatre, he has time. The only show of the day is the Sunday matinee, and the theatre wasn’t far.

“And was I _really_ that bad?” Connor asks, his eyes wide.

Kevin snorts.

"That's what they all say,” he barks, ignoring Connor’s last question, before continuing; “Alright, lead the way."

  
Kevin initially winces as Connor giddily snatches his hand, nearly causing him to drop what remained of his coffee. Connor doesn't hesitate to practically yank him out the door of the Starbucks, not even a pause to stop until they reach the corner.

“Where do you wanna eat? I’m not picky.” Connor asks.

The brunette looks a bit lost, suddenly embarrassed.

“I haven’t eaten out in New York City before, to be honest.” he confesses, before the bitterness in his voice returns, “General doesn’t let us go outside a lot.”

Connor can't suppress his gasp of surprise. Kevin grimaces as if he’d been struck.

“You poor thing! City food is the best kind of food!” Connor coos, before he grins from ear to ear. “We’ll have to take you somewhere special then, huh? I think I know just the place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been leaving me lovely comments and messages, they've really made my day!! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me 2 months to finish chapter 4. This chapter is dedicated to Demixian, Sachlockk, and Ghostlyancient, who all encouraged me to finish it for you guys.
> 
> So, here is a fluffy chapter before the future angst ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Kevin wasn’t quite sure what to think of Connor McKinley, with his annoying smile and his soft voice and his _kindness_. He felt sick, numb, and incredibly frustrated, but at the same time, amused and intrigued by the much shorter man who was tugging on his hand and leading him through the streets of New York City.

And yet, Kevin felt like a child again, eyes wide as he was enthralled by the sights and sounds, the inviting smells of fresh street food, the bustling crowds and the buildings so tall he couldn’t see around them.

He’d rarely ever explored the city as a whole, despite living in Manhattan, he knew of only a few primary locations where he was, to an extent, allowed to roam:

  1. The General’s, he had a scarce amount of say in that decision.
  2. The Starbucks down the block, though technically, he wasn’t supposed to be there. 
  3. The convenience store, for cheap cosmetics and snacks.
  4. The closest MAC Cosmetics, when he needed to treat himself.



So when Connor had the nerve to invite him to lunch, to go eat on his _not-a-date_ , how on earth could Kevin Price say _no?_

 _And he’s totally flirting with me,_ Kevin thought as he listened to Connor chirping on about how “gleeful” he was about Kevin joining him, _Who the fuck uses gleeful in a sentence?_

_Only Connor McKinley, I guess._

“Here we are!” Connor announced. It was a small restaurant, not very crowded, but Kevin still felt extremely exposed.

Connor talked to the waitress in a hushed tone, and both of them were smiling. The waiter kept throwing strange looks at Kevin, she was giggling with Connor’s every word.

Their waitress was tall, skinny, with dark skin, and frizzy hair tied up in two buns, like the ears of Mickey Mouse. She seemed to be a good friend of Connor’s by the snippets of conversation he happened to catch from between them.

“Okay, _cuties_ , follow me to your seats,” she said, extremely perky. Kevin shot a confused glance Connor’s way, who looked extremely pleased all the way to the table. It was a secluded spot, a booth in the far upper corner. Kevin allowed himself to relax as he finally sat down, they’d walked quite a distance to make it to the tiny eatery.

They ordered their drinks- water for Connor, iced tea, a rare luxury for Kevin- and Kevin caught her name, _Kimbay_. He raised an eyebrow at Connor.

“So… is she a friend?” Kevin said, clearing the awkward air that had passed between them.

“Yes, from college. She’s a sweetheart.” Connor replied.

“Am I picking up on a crush here, Connor?”

“N-no!” Connor said, face flushing red. His cheeks are almost always red. _He should invest in an ice pack or something, yeesh._

“No,” Connor continued, with a nervous laugh, “ah- um… no, that would never happen, I thought you’d noticed by now, I’m… I don’t swing it that way.”

 _“Right.”_ Kevin said, a smirk quirking on his lips. “I’d be worried otherwise that it’d all have been in vain.”

“That… What?”

“That we fucked for nothing, sweetie,” Kevin explained with an eyeroll. Connor’s breath hitched in the back of his throat. _Poor clueless kid,_ Kevin thought bemusingly.

“What are you ordering?” Connor asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“What am I ordering?” Kevin repeated, glancing down at the menu he had previously untouched. He had been so busy swirling the tip of his finger in his ice-cold beverage, that he hadn’t even decided what he wanted to eat.

“Um… What are you getting?” Kevin asked. Connor smiled softly.

“A salad, I need to keep things light before the show. But you’re welcome to whatever you’d like.”

Kevin scanned the menu, trying to quell the creeping anxiety that seemed to haunt him in the quietest of moments and pervaded his thoughts when he least expected them. He didn’t _mean_ to freeze up and stare wide-eyed at the laminated pages, he didn’t _want_ to act this way, but the panic ensued, and he cursed himself internally for letting himself be bothered by it.

The last time he’d been in a restaurant had to have been years ago.

It was when he first arrived in New York, an hour or so before he got on the subway closest to Battery Park. It had been a small cafe just around the corner of the Staten Island ferry- a beautiful eaterie, with sunlight shining through the windows, and Kevin had felt like a kid again in awe of the city.

He’d been so hopeful. He’d been ready for a new start.

He shouldn’t have taken the subway that day, he shouldn’t have _ever_ -

His hands had begun to shake, and he took a deep breath.

_The General isn’t here. He can’t decide what I eat._

And yet, staring at the pages on the menu, Kevin was positive he would never decide what to order.

After a few moments, Connor seemed to catch on to Kevin’s nervousness. He glanced from his phone back to Kevin, and then back and forth again, unsure of what to do. He’d had his own fair share of anxiety attacks, and even as clear it was that the brunette was suffering through one, he wasn’t sure how to approach it.

“Are you alright?” Connor said, taking Kevin’s hand off of his drink and squeezing it lightly. Kevin shied away from the contact.

“Sorry, sorry, just nerves. I haven’t really…”

“Do you like burgers?” Connor gently flipped over Kevin’s menu, gesturing to a bolded section. “They serve the best ones in town, or their pulled pork sandwiches are pretty great…”

Kevin nodded slowly, reading over his options.

“I haven’t had a burger since…” He paused. _Since my mission._ “I haven’t had any of this in a long time.”

“Well, we’re gonna fix that then, huh?” Connor chirped, gesturing for Kimbay to approach. He then smiled to Kevin, who gave a weak smile back.

“Sure, sure, maybe.” Kevin replied.

.::.

Kevin was not sure he’d ever tasted any meal more delicious in his entire life.

Maybe it was the fact his previous meals had all been mushy, cruddy and cafeteria-esque; they were all the things the General was feeding them (and he’s sure he’d lost pounds over the years because of malnutrition, some days he’d rather have starved himself than eat the slop he’d been provided).

He hoped he wasn’t looking like a pig, plowing away through his burger as if he’d never tasted one in his life, but he craved _real_ food like this.

Connor stifled a giggle, and it was Kevin’s turn to blush.

“Sorry, sorry!” Kevin quipped as he finished the sandwich, blotting his lips with his napkin. “I… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Connor said, “and no need to apologize, you were hungry, that’s all.”

Connor left a tip after he paid for the meal, bustling Kevin out the door.

“The theatre isn’t far,” he said, clutching Kevin’s hand again.

_I bet he’s a damn hugger too._

Kevin brushed the thought aside (as well as his potential indigestion, he really shouldn’t have eaten that fast) as Connor tugged him down the streets of New York again, pointing to a large sign for “CABARET; Nominated for 10 Tony Awards Including Best Revival!” above the doors of a massive theater. Kevin must’ve been staring in awe for quite a while, because Connor yanked a little harder on his wrist. He was so enveloped in his raw excitement that Kevin finally let himself be pulled along yet again.

The entered a stage door on the side. Connor collected a key from the stage manager, who smiled at Kevin (if he hadn’t made it clear, people smiling at him made him vastly uncomfortable), and the redhead signed in on a small clipboard.

When he at last approached the narrow flights of stairs, he glanced at Connor again, who looked nothing but confident. Kevin on the other hand scowled.

“I wasn’t aware this was all part of lunch,” Kevin spat, “I could go home, you know. I have a lot of Netflix time that I could be spending.”

“Okay, if that’s how you feel, you can go.” Connor said nonchalantly, “after all, I do have stage makeup and costuming and all sorts of things I need to settle into before the show.”

Kevin scowled. He sensed the challenge in Connor’s tone, and… playfulness? He rolled his eyes, huffing indignantly.

“Fine, fine, whatever, kid. Only for a bit.”

Connor smiled in a knowing manner, which only set Kevin off drastically more. _I barely know this guy and he thinks he knows me, the nerve of him._

The redhead lead him up the stairs. Kevin nearly tripped at least five times, eliciting laughter from his companion and leaving Kevin to scowl in objection.

The dressing room door was neatly marked with the name “Connor McKinley”, and beneath it, “Emcee”. Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“You’re Emcee? In Cabaret?” Kevin asked incredulously. Connor shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Are you the… understudy, a replacement, or-”

“Nope. The lead.” Connor grinned, pushing the door open. “Wanna take a look?”

“Okay.” Kevin said, shuffling his way into the white doorway.

Connor’s dressing room was… interesting, to say the least. He’d done a fuckton of decorating- the walls were pink, and coated in posters and artwork. A poster of Sarah McLachlan and Bono were side by side next to the wall-length mirror. Pink lights strung with sequins and beads danced across the doorway. Kevin was certain he’d never seen anything more inherently, stereotypically gay in his life.

But then Kevin set eyes on the makeup stand, and he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping.

“They give you MAC?” he exclaimed, walking over to the counter and examining the collections of lipstick and eyeshadow.

“Yeah. Missy usually does my face, but I think she’s running late. I’m gonna get into my costume, if that’s okay with you,” Connor answered. Kevin blinked as the other boy began removing his clothes. Connor caught him staring, and was unfazed.

“Are you gonna watch me change… or…?”

“Sorry,” Kevin mumbled, picking up an eyeshadow palette.

“How old are these?”

“Ahh, I don’t know. Missy got them for me.”

“Yeah, well, they’re gonna expire. We’re getting you a new set when you’re done here, I have to run to MAC anyways.”

Connor was surprisingly fast at slipping into his incredibly _suggestive_ attire, and scooted beside Kevin to work on his hair. Kevin didn’t say a word of protest, moving aside to give him space.

“Oh, I need to do my makeup before I put on my mic,” Connor said to himself, shaking his head. He turned to Kevin, who promptly set down the bright red lipstick he’d been observing, and grinned.

“Do you want to do my stage makeup?” Connor asked.

Kevin blinked.

“Uh… I guess, but I don’t know what it looks like.” Kevin said, pursing his lips. “If you have a reference sheet I can see what I can do.”

Connor beamed, and pointed to a very clear picture of Alan Cumming dressed as the Emcee on the mirror. Kevin nearly face-palmed himself- it was right under his nose.

_Smooth, Kevin._

“Okay. Sit down and lean back.” the brunette said, pulling out the white face powder and a blending sponge.

Connor did as he was told, an air of calmness smoothing his features as the chair tilted back enough for Kevin to sweep the powder over Connor’s face, occasionally glancing back over at the photo for reference. The eyeliner and eyebrows were next, and he pulled out black pencils for that.

“You’re very precise,” Connor commented, blinking. Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Don’t move or I’ll mess up.” Kevin snorted.

Connor’s eyes fluttered shut obediently. Kevin returned to his work, sealing the eyebrows with wax gel and then put on the blush powder.

“God, this stuff is cakey. It should be loose. Who got you this junk?”

Connor opened his mouth to comment, but Kevin interrupted him again.

“That was a rhetorical question, smart ass. Alright, open your mouth and relax your lips, I’m gonna apply the lipstick now.”

.::.

With the gentleness and precision of a professional, Kevin swept the dark red color over Connor’s lips. Connor was watching him with a curious look, but did as he was told and didn’t interfere with Kevin’s processes.

“Alright. I’m done.” Kevin announced, helping readjust Connor’s chair. Connor sat up straight, looking at the work on his face.

“Wow.” he said, grinning. “You did a swell job.”

He turned to face Kevin.

“How do I look?” he mused, giving a little spin.

“Alluring.” Kevin responded, and Connor’s face nearly turned scarlet from that deep, smoky tone that the man had taken on in his voice. He took a step forward, examining his handiwork.

He realized, then, how incredibly close they were, and how incredibly, sinfully attractive Kevin looked at the moment out of drag-

And then Kevin parted his lips, as though to say something more. Connor leaned forward, Kevin’s hands skimming his shoulders and then giving a firm squeeze.

 _They- were they about to…?_ Connor smiled, tilting his head invitingly, and grasped Kevin’s wrists with his palms, wrapping his fingers delicately around the warm skin.

They were so close, he could almost taste Kevin’s lips on his own- and then as they moved to finally connect-

“TEN MINUTE CALL!”

Connor suppressed a groan as they let go and jerked back from each other. Kevin’s cheeks were flushed, and Arnold Cunningham’s loudly obnoxious voice sounded again.

“WOW, Connor, you’re actually in costume this time!” The curly-haired stage manager laughed, his voice reverberating and almost giving Connor a headache.

“That I am.” he sighed, glancing at Kevin apologetically, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you wanna stay here till I’m done? I’ll walk you home after.” he suggested, and before Kevin could respond-

“Kevin Price!?”

Connor blinked, glancing between Arnold and Kevin.

“Pardon?” Connor asked, but Arnold’s attention had already moved to Kevin, who turned sheet white.

“Kevin! What are you doing in New York?” Arnold squeaked, running up and awkwardly enveloping his arms around the taller man. Kevin’s breath was knocked out of him, and he looked to Connor for help.

“Hey, Arn.” Kevin muttered, trying to pry the stage manager off of him, but Arnold seemed to cling.

“I’ve missed you so much, buddy! I can’t believe you’re here!” Arnold squealed, rocking Kevin slightly with the momentum of his hug.

“You two know each other?” Connor said, raising an eyebrow. Arnold nodded voraciously.

“Yeah, we were _mission companions!”_ the man replied, gently patting Kevin’s shoulder and peeling away. Kevin looked as though he were about to throw up.

Connor couldn’t help but feel shocked.

“You’re mormon?” Kevin shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he said bitterly. Arnold gleefully continued.

“We were companions in Orlando, Florida. I mean, I got us excommunicated and then Kevin’s parents kicked him out and all-”

Kevin winced, gritting his teeth together, and Connor ached at the sight.

“Arnold, I think that’s enough,” Connor said with a forgiving smile, “why don’t you check on Naba? Kevin has plenty of time to talk later, I’m sure you both will catch up in no time.”

“Okay!”

Arnold grinned, throwing a glance back at Kevin.

“See you around, best friend!” he chirped. Kevin gave a nervous wave back.

“Okay, see ya.” Kevin responded tightly, waiting until Arnold disappeared completely to let out a long sigh of relief.

Connor blinked.

“What was that all about?” he asked, bewildered. Kevin shrugged.

“I honestly didn’t know he lived here,” Kevin said, “too many bad memories.”

After a long pause, he added, “I’ll just uh, wait for you here then?”

Connor smiled.

“Yeah. And then we’ll go MAC, if you’d like?” he suggested.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Chapter 5 won't take as long for me to update as this one did. I hope you liked it. My tumblr is mischief-broadway if you have any questions or comments. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for flashbacks of sexual abuse. The entire first section is italicized, and that is where it occurs if you need to skip it.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, my lovely friend Kat drew fanart for Exquisite Corpse! It is located here: http://mischief-broadway.tumblr.com/post/144077019800/poisonsocks-done-connor-as-emcee-and-kevin
> 
> Thank you, Kat! :)

_“I hate you!”_

_He repeated those words like a mantra, writhing and screaming under the weight of The General on top of him. He sobbed, thrashing out his legs as the bigger man held him down and slapped him across the face._

_“Shut up, slut,” BFN snapped, his hot breath making Kevin gag._

_“I hate you! I fucking-” He was cut off by his own shuddering cries. The drugs in his system weighed him down, and he suddenly felt too dizzy to stay awake._

_“You heard me, shut up!”_

_Another slap marked his face with a loud smack. His jaw was sore, and it hung loosely after that from shock. His lipstick was squashed in streaks across his cheeks, staining them with red. Or was it blood? Kevin couldn’t tell._

_BFN’s hands trailed somewhere incredibly private, and Kevin clamped his legs together, reveling in the screech of the other man. Then the fists hit him in the chest, his hips, his face… Kevin cried through it all, ignoring the newly defined blood trickling from the fresh gash on his lip, and the polka-dot bruises marring his flesh._

_“You’re my fucking property,” the General spat, gripping Kevin’s waist so hard he squeaked in pain, “you belong to me, every inch of your body is_ mine. _Do you understand?”_

_Kevin remained silent, his body shaking with every labored breath, but he howled in pain when another blow popped him in the jaw. He couldn’t even scream anymore, gasping for breath as BFN invaded his mouth, pressing fervent kisses against his bloody lips, his jawline, his throat, expecting some sort of an answer._

_“Yes! Yes, I’m yours!” he pleaded. The General grinned, pleased with this response, and kissed Kevin roughly on his bloody, bruised lips. Kevin didn’t move, just parted his lips and let BFN waste every precious kiss that should belong to a lover or a spouse or anyone but his pimp._

_His eyelids fluttered, heavy and dark, and he finally stopped fighting the General, to allow his legs to go slack, letting out a soft cry of displeasure. The General would have his way no matter what he did. It’s always the same, so why fight it anymore? Kevin didn’t have the strength to say no._

_“You’re my favorite whore, y’know,” BFN purred in his ear, his lips trailing down to Kevin’s collarbone, “and you’re gonna make me feel so good tonight...”_

.::.

Kevin had fallen asleep in Connor’s dressing room when he heard the distant roar of applause rattle him from his dreams. A little pathetically, he realized he had passed out on the floor instead of on the futon only feet away from his position.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up slowly, all too aware of the dull soreness that throbbed and ached along his spine. By now he was far too familiar with that sort of pain, even in his dreams. 

Despite the dream having ended, he still felt rattled by the faint remembrances of the ghost of BFN’s hands tracing his skin. He still had a hickey somewhere, he was sure- why else had he worn a hoodie at the end of summer? 

He unzipped the jacket slightly, letting his fingers trail across his neck and collar until he found it. With a wince, he snapped his hand back. Hickeys were supposed to be fun, something between lovers. Kevin couldn’t recall the last time he’d even found sex _fun_. It was his job, to please his clients, in all the glitz and the glamour that said job entailed. 

Even so, he still felt mildly terrified at the prospect of The General. The dreams were just getting worse- he was making a big deal out of something that after all, was _his_ fault. Kevin shook his head.

_Nothing I can do about that._

Connor walked in while he was still on the floor, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, before he stopped in his tracks.

“Um… are you okay?” he asked, and Kevin scrambled to his feet.

“Yeah, um, I fell asleep on your floor, sorry.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to apologize, but the embarrassment flooded to his cheeks, and he checked the time on the wall clock.

“It’s 10PM already?” he said, and involuntarily yawned. 

Connor nodded, and grasped a makeup wipe, wiping away the cosmetics on his face.

“Yeah. So I think that MAC is closed now, I honestly forgot about it,” Connor said sheepishly. Kevin shrugged.

“Okay. Well,” he scuffed his foot across the floor, “what do you want to do?”

Connor blinked.

“Me?”

 _Yes, you, who else would I be talking to?_ Kevin thought, fighting, and losing, the urge to roll his eyes.

“Don’t you have to get back to The General’s?” Connor asked, raising an eyebrow. The brunette internally cringed. _Right, that._

“I don’t care.” he said. Of course, he did care, he would certainly get punished if he didn’t get back before tomorrow morning. On the contrary, defying BFN gave him a sort of thrill that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and after all, he wasn’t going to give Connor any freebies, so…

“Do you want to go to my place?” Connor asked, and then bit his lip. “N-not that we’re going to do anything touchy-feely, just, you mentioned Netflix earlier?”

_Oh, I did say that, didn’t I?_

“Yeah, what about it?” 

Kevin stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket, trying not to yawn again as he felt the exhaustion creep up on him. Connor smiled.

“You could come watch Netflix at my place. I have a subscription- or we could use yours-”

“Ah, well,” Kevin said with a grin, “actually… I don’t have a Netflix account. It’s the boss’. But sure, I could catch up on a few films.” 

Kevin leaned against the wall, waiting for Connor to finish cleaning up for the night. He politely looked away when Connor removed his costume (though, he’d never admit it aloud, he definitely had taken some peeks at Connor’s exposed backside that night).

“We’ll take the other exit- the alley one. Otherwise you’d get trampled at the stagedoor,” Connor chuckled, garnering Kevin’s attention whilst he was absorbed in his own thoughts. Kevin raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Stagedoor?” he echoed. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I keep forgetting you’re not a theatre geek,” Connor apologized, “it’s where fans wait at for signatures and selfies and such-  
I can manage skipping a night.”

“And you must be starving,” he continued, “did you get any snacks while you were up here on your own?”

Kevin’s rumbling stomach provided that answer all on its own. Connor gave an empathetic smile.

“Mutumbo’s has the best pizza by my place. We’ll grab a slice on the way over.” 

They slid out the dressing room with ease, dodging tired cast members as they move to and fro.

“No stagedoor today?” one of them called to Connor. The redhead gave a small shrug and apologetic smile.

“Not tonight. Tomorrow for sure!” 

He turned to Kevin and ushered him down the stairs.

It was agonizing to an extent for Kevin, who was still feeling a dull ache in his back from plastering himself on the floor earlier. To be fair, the caffeine had crashed on him, and despite the chilling nightmare, he did get some decent sleep.

Other cast members exited through the stage door as Kevin passed them. Connor excitedly snatched his hand, leading him down a tiny white hall.

“I have to turn in my stagedoor key,” the man explained.

He requested Kevin wait outside before he vanished into a little office room. Kevin leaned in, listening to Connor chuckle and a female voice squeak with delight for a solid 5 minutes, before the redhead reemerged with a smile. 

Connor led him down a corridor opposite the one they had entered the theatre from, and out into an alley.

“The crowd won’t mob us here,” he chuckled, “they can get rather crazy, after all.”

With a shrug, Kevin followed the redhead through the dark little alley and out onto the open streets. 

The street lamps barely concealed the bustling to and fro of people, and Kevin did not have enough time to react to Connor’s hand finding its way into his own.

“Uh-” he began, but Connor was already dragging him along through the streets, ducking his head as he walked briskly.

“You’re too slow,” Connor said with playful disdain, “I wanna get there before it closes.”

.::.

The walk to Mutumbo’s for pizza actually wasn’t far. The had a gleeful smile when Connor arrived and ordered two boxes to go. 

“Is this your boyfriend?” Mutumbo asked, with a conspiratorial wink. Connor turned bright red. Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Oh gosh, no. Just friends,” Connor said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the nape of his neck. 

_What, too embarrassed to address me as what I am? A slut you paid for?_ Kevin thought, but remained quiet. 

Mutumbo thrust his hand in Kevin’s face, offering a handshake.

“Mutumbo,” the man said, his voice thick with an accent Kevin couldn’t place, “and you are?”

Warily, Kevin accepted it, shooting a glance Connor’s way. Connor nodded encouragingly, and Kevin gave in.

“Kevin-”

Mutumbo pulled him into a hug over the counter, causing Kevin to squeak in alarm. Connor laughed at the brunette’s expense.

“Mutumbo is a hugger,” Connor apologized between his fits of laughter. “Don’t be hard on him, Mutumbo!”

Mutumbo grinned, his mouth unbearably close to Kevin’s ear. He could feel the man’s hot breath on his neck, and panic shot up through his spine. But Kevin swallowed it down with a thick gulp.

“If you hurt Connor McKinley I will find you and beat the shit out of you until you wish you’d never even looked at him, is that clear?” he whispered. 

“What?”

Kevin’s eyes blown wide, Mutumbo let go, still smiling pleasantly.

“Let me check on your pizzas,” Mutumbo quipped, turning on his heels and vanishing back into the kitchen.

.::.

Connor doesn’t _quite_ remember how it happened.

They arrived to his apartment with pizza in tow a little past midnight. Kevin appeared a little shellshocked after Mutumbo’s, but snarky nonetheless.

His apartment, admittedly, was not the best. Little, one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen and a tiny living room. His couch was reclining and hot pink, which didn’t match anything else in the house.

Kevin plopped onto the fuschia couch, his face contorted into a look of exhaustion. Connor followed him, sitting on the opposite end. They ate, they watched a crap film that was honestly about to put Connor to sleep and then…

“Hey, Connor?”

Connor had run into the kitchen to get a glass of water and toss the completed pizza boxes away in the trash when Kevin’s voice alerted him out of his own little thought bubble.

“Yes?” he called, rubbing his sore eyes.

He made his way back to the living room. He had barely made it to the doorway when he caught sight of Kevin.

“Is this Disney?” Kevin asked, holding up an unmistakable DVD box with the cover art prominently displaying the title ‘BRAVE’. Connor tilted his head.

“Yeah, why?”

Kevin flushed pink, glancing between the DVD and Connor.

“Don’t laugh.” Kevin said, “But… BFN doesn’t even let us watch Disney so I haven’t, uh, caught up on any films lately.”

“Oh.” Connor didn’t expect that one.

He tentatively stepped forward, gesturing for the box. Kevin hesitantly handed it over, a curious sort of look Connor’s never seen him make before crossing his features. He looked… innocent. Almost sweet.

“Are you… asking to watch Brave?”

“Um… yeah. I mean it’s your house and your TV, so-”

“You’re the guest,” Connor said with a grin, “and if you wanna watch Brave, we’ll watch Brave.”

He headed over to the television, and turned off his Apple TV to replace it with the DVD player. As soon as it’s up and running, he returned to his place on the couch.

“Anything else I can get you?” Connor asked, observing Kevin, who was hugging a pillow to his chest.

Kevin looked thoughtful for a second, and scooted closer on the couch. 

_Wait, is he going to…?_

Connor’s own moment was interrupted as Kevin set the pillow in the redhead’s lap, before slumping down to rest his head on it.

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” the man snorted, “my back hurts and I don’t wanna sit right now. Still want my long-overdue Disney fix.”

“Oh gosh, I wouldn’t! Uh… I was gonna recline my seat though if that’s… okay?” Connor stammered.

Kevin muffled what sounded like a muted laugh.

“As long as it doesn’t move my position. You’re cozy.”

.::.

Kevin’s body was warm pressed against Connor.

He doesn’t last as long as he claims he would. Within 30 minutes, he was out like a light, lightly snoring and his cheek smushed against the pillow.

“Kevin?” he whispered, prodding his body gently. If it makes Kevin uncomfortable, he doesn’t want him to wake up and think anything could have _happened_ between them.

“Kevin?” he repeated to no response. The brunette was in deep slumber, not even fidgeting or twitching. 

He contemplated then, scooting his way so Kevin safely was out of his lap and going to bed.

Was it selfish that he, deep down, enjoyed being this close to Kevin? The man was so sinfully _beautiful_ , and Connor didn’t even want anything more from him except, at the minimum, a friendship. 

_All I want is to be Kevin’s_ friend _. That’s safe, right? Am I allowed to do that?_

Kevin’s bed head was so silky smooth for Connor to run his fingers through. He gently combed through it once, ever so fondly, before grasping the throw blanket hanging over the couch.

Loosely, he tucked Kevin in the blanket, up to his neck where it hung delicately over his shoulders.

Connor smiled and rested his hand comfortably on Kevin’s torso (and thank god he was clothed, Connor would be so embarrassed if he had touched any of Kevin’s bare skin, he’d have felt even worse had he done so). He leaned back into the recliner. It wasn’t as comfortable as his bed but… somehow it all seemed like something, _something_ he’d been missing was now unmistakably _there_ , and Connor felt…

No. He forced the thought away, his eyes heavy and tired. 

Yes, he was tired. So very tired. Kevin’s sleeping form was the last thing he could focus on before his drooping eyelids gave way to the inviting realm of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer, I promise :)


End file.
